The Ghosts that Haunt Me
by Labyrinth01
Summary: Brenda Johnson is a woman afraid of falling in love. Fritz dares to confront her about past relationships, and finds out that her affair with Will Pope was only one of the reasons she has built up walls around her heart. This takes place in Season 1.
1. Chapter 1

**The Ghosts that Haunt Me, Chapter 1**

"You have got to be kidding me," said Fritz. Brenda could clearly hear his irritation through the phone. She was a bit taken aback, since it took a lot to get Fritz upset.

"What's wrong? I said I'm sorry I can't have dinner with you tonight, but this case—"

"Brenda, do you realize that in one breath, you asked me to use my FBI connections to get information on your suspect, and then turned around and broke our date?"

"Yea…" Brenda said, confused. She still didn't understand why he was mad.

Fritz sighed. "It just makes me wonder if you would be dating me if I weren't an FBI agent, that's all. Or if I wasn't so willing to help you out with your cases."

"Fritz, do you think I'm usin' you?"

"I don't know, Brenda, are you?" Fritz was clearly angry at her. She chewed her lower lip.

"So all of a sudden I'm this bad person because I cancelled our dinner date? Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit, Fritz? And hey, if you don't want to help me, than don't, OK? I'll get what I need some other way." Brenda felt her own ire rise.

"Oh no Brenda," Fritz answered with a tint of sarcasm in his voice. "I know nothing is more important to you than your cases, nothing at all. I'll e-mail you the information you need."

"Thank you Fritz, I appreciate it, and I'm sorry…" it was too late. He had already hung up the phone.

Brenda stuck her own phone in her purse and headed back to her office from the vending machine, Ho-Ho's in hand. She had never heard Fritz that irate with her before. They had been dating for three months now, and she thought things were going reasonably well, especially for her. The three month mark seemed to be when men stopped being captivated by her looks and started to get irritated with her work obsession. With Fritz, he never made her feel bad about her long hours, the sex was phenomenal, and she loved spending time with him. She got the sense that he cared about her more deeply than she did him, but she tried not to dwell on that, or it would scare her to death. She had a disastrous track record with men, and she didn't want to get too attached to Fritz, and she certainly didn't want to fall in love with him.

She opened the door to her office, happy to see it empty, no one there to tug on her sleeve because they needed anything, and no one there to yell at her either. She needed a few minutes alone to think about why Fritz was so mad at her. She quickly checked her e-mail and saw that Fritz had already sent her the document she requested. That was fast, she thought. She was hoping he put a little note to her in the e-mail, but there was just the attachment and nothing else. Oh, he is mad, she thought. Fritz would usually send her a couple of e-mails a day to say hi or pass on something humorous. Brenda always smiled when she saw his name pop up in her inbox, and responded to him in kind with a suggestive or flirty message. It was flattering to know that she thought of her during the work day. Brenda opened the attachment and printed it out, then wrote "thanks Fritzy, you are the best!" in all capitols in her reply, hoping it would serve as an olive branch.

Brenda knew she wasn't the most insightful person. When she was honest with herself, which wasn't all that often, she admitted she liked it this way. She didn't want to go through life analyzing her own behavior for deeper meanings. She did enough of that with suspects that she really didn't care to turn her keen eye inwards. But Fritz's irritation bothered her, and she was clearly the source of it. Normally, she didn't really care about what people thought about her, but she did care about how Fritz saw her; she cared very much. She hated that she cared, but she did, and he had insinuated she was using him to work her cases. She unwrapped the Ho-Ho and bit into it, savoring the chocolate flavor, and dipping a finger down into the cream. Ahh, that was better, now I can think clearly.

Using him. Was she? Of course not, she wouldn't be sleeping with the man to get information from the FBI. Could he really think that? Brenda ate the rest of the Ho Ho, going over their relationship so far. Well, she had asked Fritz for help on a lot of cases, she had to admit, and he was always eager to help her. And she was very grateful to him, because with his help, she closed cases faster. But she also broke a lot of dates with him because of working all the time, and he always sounded disappointed and hurt when she did. Perhaps she had been a little too casual with breaking dates, and her refusal to rearrange any aspect of her life to make room for Fritz might finally be taking its toll. Well, I gave him half a drawer and let him leave a toothbrush at my house, she thought. That's pretty good, but I guess not good enough. She sighed. Men are so needy. She gave him her body, and her attention when she could…why wasn't that enough?

Brenda took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. Well, I guess it's time to step up and play the good girlfriend, she thought wearily. She would see if he could get out of here at a decent hour and have him over tonight. He liked to talk about relationship things; she certainly didn't, but she also didn't want him to think she was exploiting him either. They will talk for awhile, go to bed, make love, and hopefully all will be forgiven in the morning. First, she has to see if she can actually manage to get out of work at a reasonable time. She really wanted to look through the evidence boxes from the suspect's previous crime, but she supposed Sgt. Gabriel can handle that, and he had volunteered. She hated to hand anything over to anybody, especially since she was just getting to know her squad and there was a lot of uneasiness between them, but what the hell. It will probably make Sgt. Gabriel happy, seeing she trusted him enough to delegate. Makin' men happy, she thought wearily, tossing the Ho-Ho wrapper in the trashcan and standing up, heading for the murder room. Not exactly the way I had intended to spend my day.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Brenda got home at 7:00, which was unusually early for her. Kitty seemed a bit confused at her early arrival, since the food bowl was usually empty by the time Brenda showed up. Brenda hopped in the shower to wash off her day, and then changed into her comfy jeans and a pink top. She opened a bottle of Merlot and poured a glass before calling Fritz.

He answered on the first ring. "Hi," he said shortly, clearly still annoyed.

"Hey Fritz," she answered tentatively. She was hoping he wouldn't be mad at her any more, but that didn't seem to be the case. "I called for a couple of reasons. First of all, I really want to thank you for the information you sent over today. We're arresting the guy tomorrow based on what you gave us, so I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he said curtly. "And the second thing?"

"The second thing is that I'd really like you to come over this evenin', please."

"You aren't at work?"

"No," she answered, taking a drink from her wine glass. "I'm at home, so if you are done with your day, I'd love you to come over now, I mean, if you want to."

"Brenda, why did you cancel our date if you were actually going to be free? You should have called me when you knew you were wrapping up early, and I could have taken you out somewhere nice." Fritz lost any trace of anger in his voice.

Brenda's heart stirred. Fritz really is the sweetest guy in the world, she thought. What in the world is he doin' with me?

"Well, I had planned to stay late to review a bunch of evidence, so I would know this guy's background really well before we picked him up tomorrow, but I decided to give Sgt. Gabriel the task, and see how he could handle it, you know, how well he is at summarizin' evidence."

"It about killed you, didn't it?" The smile was back in his voice.

"What about killed me?"

"Delegating. You are the biggest micromanager in the world. That's why you are always at work."

"Well yea, it was pretty hard," she admitted. Brenda paused. "But, Fritz, I know you are upset at me, so I wanted to get off early so we could talk." Brenda cringed. It sounded so…_relationshippy_. She hated talks about feelings, where the relationship was going, etc…all those terrible discussions you are forced to have when you are dating someone. And now she had to do it with Fritz. She poured herself a second glass of Merlot.

"All right, I'd be happy to. I just got home myself, so I'll be over in about 30 minutes."

She smiled. "That's great Fritz, I'll see you then," and hung up the phone. Thirty minutes should give her plenty of time to down a few more glasses of Merlot. If she had to have a relationship discussion, she sure as hell didn't want to be sober for it.

Fritz arrived a half an hour later, as promised. He looked so good in his leather jacket that Brenda was tempted to drag him into the bedroom the moment he walked through the door. She much rather make love to him than have a deep, heartfelt conversation. She was much better at the former and horrible at the latter.

Fritz leaned down and kissed her. "Are you OK?" he asked

Do I look drunk, she thought. "I'm fine, why?"

He took off his leather jacket and sat down on the couch. He looked sexy in black jeans and a rust-colored button down. "I just didn't think I'd get a phone call from you asking me to come over and talk. For most women, that either means they are expecting a proposal or they are going to break up with you. Somehow I get the feeling that this isn't the case. At least I hope you don't want to break up with me." Fritz squinted, looking a little worried.

Brenda carried the near-empty Merlot bottle and her glass into the living room and sat down across from him. She shook her head and smiled. "No Fritzy, I don't want to break up with you. I just, well, I know you are mad, and I think I get why, which is really good for me, because I'm not really into this relationship stuff and sometimes I'm a little dense, but I guess what I'm tryin' to say is I'm sorry if you think, you know, that I'm just datin' you because you are an FBI agent and can get me information. Because that's not true, it's just not true, honestly, I'd date you no matter what, because I think you're great." She paused and took a breath, and Fritz burst out laughing.

"Hey, what's so funny?"

"Brenda, that was the worst apology I have ever heard in my life."

Brenda was frustrated. She felt like she had been completely clear. "Look Fritz, I'm just really bad at this stuff, OK? So cut me a break."

"Bad at apologies?"

"No. I mean yes, I'm terrible at those too. What I meant was I'm really bad at this whole emotional thing, I mean really bad. So I'm doin' my best here."

He stared at her for a moment. "How many glasses of wine did you have to drink to work the courage up to try and assure me that your not using me and you actually care about me? Assuming that's what you were just trying to say." He looked at her expectantly.

She was startled by the directness of his question. "Um, most of a bottle," she answered quietly. "And since I didn't make a lot of sense, I guess it wasn't enough, huh? 'Cuz that was what I was tryin' to say, I mean, what you said." This is torture, she thought.

She bent down to the bottle sitting on the floor and poured the remaining wine into her glass. She heard Fritz ask her, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Brenda, who hurt you so badly?"

She almost spilled her glass, and stalled for time so she wouldn't have to look at him. Finally she sat back up and took a long drink before she met his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Who hurt you so badly that you have put up walls like this, Brenda? That you are so afraid to let me in?"

She just stared at him. How could she answer the unanswerable? If she had walls, like he said, they will built with many hands. And what he called walls, she called self-preservation, an insurance plan against another broken heart, another failed relationship. And if he wanted names, like any good cop would, she wasn't going there, no way, no how.

"Was it Pope?" he asked in that same soft voice one might use with a child.

This got a reaction out of her. "Pope? You have got to be kiddin' me. If I'm some kind of emotional cripple, some kind of miserable hard-assed bitch who's hard to be with, I refuse to give him the credit for that." She could hear the bitterness in her own voice. "I wouldn't ever give him that kind of power over me. I was a big girl when I was with him, remember, Fritz? I was 29 when we started datin,' 32 when he dumped me. I was plenty old enough to pick up the pieces, thank you." She glared at him from across the room.

"OK, you never told me about what happened in your marriage, Brenda. I told you about my seven-year disastrous relationship with Cindy, but I don't know anything about your marriage except that he was the one who was the reason behind your ethics inquiry in Atlanta. Besides that, I don't know anything."

"You are enterin' very dangerous waters, Fritz. I do not want to talk about Hart with you. Not now, not ever." She drained her glass and tried to slow her breathing. She couldn't believe he was asking her these things.

"Why not, Brenda? When you are in a relationship, you tell each other about your past, if you trust the other person. I know this isn't easy for you."

Anger flared up in her. "You don't know anything, Fritz Howard, anything!" he jumped a bit at her raised voice. "Don't start pokin' around places you don't belong."

"Oh, but I think I do belong there, Brenda. I know you are scared to death of being hurt. I know trust is extremely hard for you. I know you don't like opening yourself up to being vulnerable to anyone. What I don't know is why."

She closed her eyes, aware of the tears that were forming, and fought to chase them back. She didn't want to dredge up memories she fought so hard to suppress. It just hurt too much. She thought of Fritz, gentle, kind-hearted Fritz, and realized that he asked very little of her. She just didn't know if she was strong enough to grant him this one particular request.

"Tell me why you want to hear this," Brenda said softly, her eyes still closed.

"Because I really care about you," he answered, equally softly. "And I want in, Brenda. I want to know more of you, learn about all the parts you have hidden away because you are so afraid of getting hurt. You are such an amazing person, and I want to see the real you. All of you, even the painful parts."

Brenda's eyes opened and she looked at him in surprise. Here she thought she had covered up that vulnerability so it was invisible to the naked eye. But Fritz saw right through her. Was she that transparent, or was he that insightful?

"OK," she heard herself saying. "OK Fritz, have it your way. If you wanna hear about the train wreck that was my love life, you can hear about it. But I have to warn you, don't you dare act like you feel sorry for me. I'm not damaged, I'm not, I'm just careful after havin' some bad experiences. Got it?"

He nodded. "I got it, Brenda. And for the record, you are one of the strongest people I know. I don't think I could ever feel sorry for you, for anything. I know you can take care of yourself."

She laughed. "Yup, I'm tough all right," she said sarcastically. "So tough that I'm not goin' anywhere near this topic of conversation without more wine." She got up and opened a second bottle of Merlot and brought it back to the chair she was sitting in. She poured a full glass and drained three-fourths of it in one gulp. She put her glass down and refilled it. Fritz looked at her, worried.

She pointed a finger at him. "You wanted to hear this, but I'm gonna do it my way. And that's with a high blood alcohol content. It's the only way I can tell you this stuff without makin' myself sick."

**More to come...**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ghosts That Haunt Me, Chapter 2**

Brenda ran her hands through her curly hair and sighed deeply. She couldn't believe she was about to tell Fritz about he darkest parts of her life, things she tried very hard not to think about, let alone talk about. The wine made her feel relaxed and a little buzzed, and she hoped she was numb enough to be one step back from what she was saying so the memories might not hurt so much. She loved Merlot. She didn't know where she would be without Merlot. It cushioned a lot of blows, and she hoped it was up to the task tonight, or she would fall apart in front of Fritz, which she didn't' want to do. She also refused to give him the Lifetime version of her past. He asked to hear this, and he will, unedited and sugar-coated, the way Brenda lived through it. Too bad he doesn't drink, she thought to herself. He could probably use a stiff one once I've told him everything.

She fidgeted in her chair, and saw that Fritz was looking at her expectantly, so she couldn't put it off any longer. She took a deep breath. "Oh, where to begin," she said. "Oh yea, Pope, since you asked about him first. I don't need to tell you anything about him, 'cuz you were my friend back then, and you got to see the carnage first-hand. So as you know, I moved back to Atlanta about 6 months after Will dumped me. I got a good job in the Atlanta PD, and I thought bein' back with my family would be good for me.

"My momma's best friend had a son, Hart, who was just a year older than me. When we were growin' up, he would follow me around like some lovesick puppy dog. He asked me out like a billion times in high school, and he was such a geek I wasn't interested. When I would be home for college breaks, and even after college, he would always find an excuse to stop by our house so he could see me. Well, sure enough, I'm not back in Atlanta a week before he stops by my parents' house when I'm over there. I hadn't seen him in awhile, and he definitely had passed through the geeky phase and wasn't bad lookin'. He had a good job, and was single. So when he asked me out this time, I didn't see any reason to say no.

"My momma, of course, was thrilled. She had wanted me to date Hart since we were teenagers. Trust me, I didn't have any expectations, but I didn't know anyone my age in Atlanta, so it seemed like a good idea to at least be his friend. One date led to another, and then we were a couple. Hart treated me completely differently than Will did, which I think is why I kept datin' him. He loved spendin' time with me, and would rearrange his schedule to fit mine so we could be together. He was always doin' nice things for me, bringin' me flowers, or dinner when I had to work late. He was incredibly attentive, and I felt…appreciated. And special. I wasn't the 'other woman,' anymore. So after six months of dating, when Hart gave me a ring and proposed, I couldn't really see any reason to say no." She laughed hollowly. "Yea, not exactly the best reason to accept a marriage proposal, I know. It was stupid, really stupid, but I'm not sure I was thinkin' too clearly back then." She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"We eloped pretty soon after we got engaged, and my momma was furious. She had always dreamed of a big church weddin' for me, lacy dress and all that, and she felt cheated. But, she was really happy I married Hart, because to her that meant I would settle in Atlanta, have a few kids, maybe even leave law enforcement to be a stay-at-home mom."

Fritz laughed. "That would be a cold day."

She smiled. "Wouldn't it? You know mothers, wantin' their daughters to do things the way they did them."

"Anyways, I should have known things were gonna turn out badly when we had our first fight as a married couple. About two weeks after we eloped, we got our marriage license in the mail, and Hart threw a fit when he saw that I didn't take his name. I mean, I know I should have told him that ahead of time, but I guess I just assumed he knew I wouldn't, you know? That's not my style. Anyways, he flipped out and told me to change it, and I refused of course, and then he went on about how humiliatin' it was gonna be for him to have a wife who didn't have his name, and he intended to call me Brenda Hutchinson anyways, and I said I wouldn't answer to that, and I certainly wasn't gonna be anything but 'Johnson' at work…well, you get the picture. It should have given me a clue that we had different expectations about being married." Brenda paused. "Come to think of it, I don't think I had any expectations about bein' married, but he certainly did."

"Barefoot and Pregnant?"

Brenda drank more Merlot and nodded, her mouth full.

"You got it. Things died down after that first fight, both us just refusin' to acknowledge we had a strong difference in opinion about what my last name was. We got on okay, though he expected me to start cookin' for him, which I thought was pretty funny. I mean, I couldn't cook before we got married, was I supposed to have undergone some magical transformation when sayin' my vows that turned me into a chef? Not to mention the fact that I worked a lot, and being a Captain wasn't exactly a 9 to 5 job. But he gave up on the cookin' thing after a few months of buggin' me about it, and started doing the cookin' himself, or just eatin' microwave dinners, which was fine with me. So we made it through the first year not terribly happy, but Momma told me that the first year of marriage was the hardest, so I thought that maybe the fights and him wantin' me to be somethin' I wasn't was just natural. God, I was naïve. Or I just didn't think I deserved any better, I don't know.

"And then Hart got really obsessed with gettin' me pregnant. He pointed out my ripe old age of 34 and said that my clock was tickin.' He badgered me about it endlessly, even though I told him I wasn't ready yet. Truth was I knew our marriage wasn't going so well, even though I didn't want to really admit it to myself, and I certainly didn't want to be trapped by havin' a kid. Then—get this—he actually hid my birth control pills from me! Which, quite frankly, was the most counterproductive thing he could have done, because I was so furious there was no way he was gettin' me into bed. Did the idiot really think I would want to have sex with him after pullin' that crap? But just to be extra safe, I went and had an IUD put in, so there was no way he could mess with my birth control again."

She stopped, staring at a spot on the floor. "Good thing, too. He came home one night and…forced himself on me. I was asleep and didn't realize what was happenin' until it was almost over. I think I was in a state of shock. Then I moved into the spare room and kept the door locked at night to make sure that never happened again." Brenda felt an old scar open up and bleed deep inside her as the visceral memory of that night came to her, and she fought off a wave of nausea.

When she finally looked at Fritz, she noticed he had lost all the color in his face. But he said nothing, so she continued.

"My response to things bein' so bad at home was to spend as much time as I could at work. I got promoted to the head of Homicide, which rankled a lot of feathers in the ol' boy's network, but I ignored that. I was thrilled to be runnin' Homicide, and such a big job required me to be at work even more, so I literally moved into my office at work. I had a couch, so I spent a lot of nights there instead of goin' home. And when I did go home, I went when I knew Hart was at work. I actually made it two weeks without seein' him, until he stopped by the station one night to bring me dinner as a surprise. He was tryin' to lure me back home, sayin' he loved me, he missed me, all that crap. Jesus, he was pathetic. Anyways, that dinner was one of the worst things that ever happened to my career."

"Why, did he poison it?" Fritz joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"No, he didn't. If there was any poisonin' goin' on, it would have been me poisonin' him, not vice versa. He wanted me back home desperately, to play wife again. He still held out hopes for the barefoot and pregnant thing.

"The dinner was disastrous for another reason. When I got promoted to Caption, a young officer was assigned to my unit to be my right-hand person, kinda like Sgt. Gabriel is now. This guy, John Wallace, was real smart, a serious up-and-comer, and he really wanted to learn about interrogation techniques from me, and I had fun teachin' him. Well, the night Hart dropped off dinner for me, John was in my office and the door was closed, and he had just told me somethin' really funny, and we were both laughin' our heads off. So Hart arrived, burritos in hand, to find me behind closed doors having an unprofessional exchange with a handsome younger officer. And that just did it. He threw the food on my desk, told me I was a cheatin' whore, and stormed off. I was so embarrassed to have John see my husband act this way, but he was really cool about it, and I knew he had enough class that he wouldn't tell the rest of the squad. And he seemed genuinely concerned about my well-bein', which was nice, but I could handle Hart on my own.

"So after that, Hart was convinced I was havin' an affair with John. He would call me up at work and ask me when I was gonna come home, and when I said I wasn't, because I was stayin' in my office as much as possible, he would go on this tirade about me sleepin' with John and that's why I wasn't comin' home. When I was home and Hart was there, all he did was hound me about how I had to end my affair to save our marriage and our reputation. He was drivin' me crazy, and no amount of reasurin' him that I wasn't sleeping with an inferior officer would appease him. He wanted me to prove it by goin' to bed with him, which I refused to do after that…incident. It was further proof I was gettin' it somewhere else. It was just awful. All it did was make me stay away even more, and it always seemed like Hart's surprise visits to the precinct happened when I was workin' with John on somethin.' It was unbelievable, the poor timin'." Brenda shook her head. "It was like this vicious cycle: I'd feel like I almost convinced Hart I wasn't havin' an affair, and then he would drop by work and there I'd be, in my office, goin' over paperwork or somethin' with John, and Hart would see us together, and the suspicions would be reignited again.

"And the thing was, and I have to admit this is real childish, is I almost wanted to sleep with John to spite Hart."

"You said you were attracted to him," Fritz said.

"Well yea, the guy was gorgeous." She looked at Fritz. "Not as gorgeous as you, of course, few men are."

"Are you flirting with me, Brenda?"

"Always," Brenda said, giving Fritz her sexy look.

"But as far as John, yea, I was attracted to him, and I think he was attracted to me. But thank God, we didn't do anything about it. So when we got called in front of Internal Affairs, we could both honestly testify that we never had any physical contact."

"When did Hart go to your superiors about you?" Fritz asked.

"Oh, this is a great one. On our second anniversary. He called the head of the precinct and told them I was havin' an affair with John, and he had witnessed us kissin' in my office. Of course, Hart saw no such thing. And I got dragged in to my superior's office and was told about the accusations against me, and IA was gonna investigate, and in the interim I was put on a paid leave. I can't tell you how stunned I was. I mean, here's the thing: if someone's wife called up and reported that her cop husband was sleepin' with someone lower than him in the Atlanta PD, it would pretty much be laughed off by the guy's supervisor, and it never would have made it to IA. But because I'm a woman, and a lot of men there thought I didn't belong, they used Hart's report as a way of damagin' my career and hopefully gettin' rid of me. Assholes." Anther glass of Merlot was poured and consumed.

"That's really unfair, Brenda. I always wondered why a complaint like that made it all the way to IA. I didn't make any sense to me."

"Well, you know how people feel about me at Parker Center, and I know it's mainly because I'm an outsider, but I'm sure it's also because I'm a woman. And California is supposed to be progressive and all. Atlanta, for a big city, was still filled with good 'ol boys, who had no problem staring at my breasts while sayin' that such a sweet thing like me didn't belong in law enforcement." Brenda's face twisted in anger with the memory.

"Did you tell these idiots that it was the 21st century, and women have careers these days?"

"No, but I came up with some real juicy responses about what they could go do with their genitalia." She and Fritz both laughed. She was surprised she could laugh at all while telling him about Hart. But somehow, Fritz's soft energy surrounded her, and she felt comforted by his presence. And for the first time, it wasn't so painful to talk about these things.

"So anyways," she said, when they stopped laughing, "I was way beyond furious with Hart. It's one thing to make my home life miserable, it a whole other thing to mess with my work. On the way home from the PD, I called a locksmith and begged him to come over immediately, which he did. Since Hart had moved into my house, he didn't have a lot of stuff, but what he did have, I dumped on the front lawn. I didn't even care if the neighbors saw me or not, I was just too enraged. I put his stereo out there, his favorite chair, all his clothes, and his CD collection. I thought the locksmith would think I was crazy doin' all this in front of him, but he didn't bat an eye. Said he's been to the homes of too many divorced couples for anything to shock him. And then it hit me: I was gettin' a divorce. I hadn't occurred to me until then what I was really doin'. I wasn't just kickin' Hart out, I was divorcin' him." Brenda stopped for a second to wipe her eyes, which had filled up unexpectedly. "And then all of a sudden, I just burst into tears. The poor locksmith patted me on the back and found some Kleenex. I could tell he felt pretty awkward and just wanted to get out of there. I'm sure I've become an antidote he tells at parties about the crazy woman who threw her husband's stuff on the lawn and then had a meltdown." She smiled bitterly. "Really wasn't one of my better days, that's for sure. I calmed down enough to find my purse and pay the guy, and he left. I went and found a piece of paper and a black marker and wrote 'I want a divorce' in big letters. I taped to the top of the stereo outside. Then I opened a bottle of wine and sat in the livin' room and waited for Hart to come home. And I can't tell you how happy I was when it started rainin'."

"What was his reaction, coming home and seeing all this?" Fritz said.

She shook her head. "Yea, it was bad. He saw his stuff on the lawn and figured out I was mad, and then tried to get in and couldn't because I changed the locks. Then he was outside beggin' me to let him in. He kept yellin' that he loved me and just wanted us to be together. The idiot thought reportin' my supposed affair would force me to end it and come back to him. How crazy is that? Anyways, I got tired of yellin' at him through a window like poor white trash, so I called John of all people, and asked him if he had any discrete buddies he could send over to make Hart take his stuff and leave. I could tell he felt real sorry for me and told me he had some friends who owed him favors and wouldn't talk. So a couple of uniforms came over, threw Hart's stuff in his car, and insisted he leave or they would arrest him. And then he was gone."

"That must have been hard."

"Yea, it was hard, the whole thing was hard. But that night, it felt so good to have my house to myself again, not havin' to worry about seein' Hart and gettin' into a fight with him. And since I was on leave, it was a good thing I was livin' someplace comfortable." Her voice became hard again when she mentioned her job.

"So your parents—how were they about all this, since Hart was a family friend?"

"I went over the next day to explain what was goin' on, about my leave at work, and about kickin' Hart out. Momma and Daddy were furious at him for accusin' me of being unfaithful, but she said I was bein' hasty for talkin' divorce. She said maybe the two of us could work things out." Brenda rolled her eyes. "Momma, the eternal optimist. Daddy was a lot more angry with Hart, and Momma had to practically hold him back from not goin' and findin' Hart and beatin' some sense into him. Personally, that was fine with me. But Momma had a change of heart the next day, when there was an article in the paper about me bein' investigated for sexual misconduct. I think seein' the word 'sex' in the same article as my full name 'bout sent her around the bend. He had publicly shamed me, and our family, and that was unforgivable.

"So, within a week, I had hired a lawyer and had divorce papers served to Hart. I knew Hart would flip out, and he did. Came bangin' on the door that night, yellin' that he loved me, that he refused to divorce me, and a bunch of other crap. I got my gun, pointed it out the window, and told him that I would shoot him within the next 30 seconds if he didn't leave. An abuse of power, I know, but I was desperate. And he did leave, cryin' the whole time. I thought then that it might be nice for the neighbors if I went and stayed at my parents for a few days, so I did. It sounds pathetic, but havin' my momma bake me cookies and my daddy take me in to work to help out so I wouldn't be bored was really nice, just what I needed durin' such a bad time. Hart fought the divorce every step of the way, and I think if I didn't have Momma and Daddy there to support and comfort me, I would have probably gone out and shot Hart out of frustration. Despite Hart's best efforts, the divorce went through, finally. But get this—he hooked up with some cocktail waitress one month after I kicked him out. We weren't even officially divorced yet, and he had taken up with another woman. Yup, her sure loved me all right," she said, bitterness in her voice.

Fritz leaned forward and touched Brenda's knee. "Brenda, you aren't unlovable," he said, reading Brenda's mind. "You just went through some really tough relationships with the wrong people. Pope and Hart weren't good enough for you, not even close. You deserve so much better than that." He looked at her pleadingly.

"Well Fritz, before you give the 'you deserve better' speech, you should let me finish." Brenda said. "You wanted to hear this stuff, so I'm givin' you everything. There's one more man that wasn't good enough for me, which is probably why I started datin' him. And brace yourself for this one."

**Next chapter is a goodie...**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Ghosts That Haunt Me, Chapter 3**

"I think I need more Merlot for this story." She started for the kitchen, and Fritz grabbed her by the arm. "Brenda, you have had two bottles over the past few hours. I think that's enough." He had concern in his eyes.

"I'll compromise with you. I'll just have one more glass and that's it. I have a real high tolerance for wine, Fritz, because I drink it every day. Good for your heart and all that. So goin' through two bottles since 7:00"—she looked down at her watch—"for heaven's sake, It's almost 10. I've been talkin' for two straight hours?" She looked at Fritz.

"Yea, you have, and I have appreciated everything you've told me, Brenda," Fritz said, standing up and wrapping his arms around her. "I know how difficult this is, and it means so much to me that you are sharing your past with me." He stroked her hair.

She leaned her head against his chest, struggling with her next words. "With you, I feel more comfortable talkin' about these things, which I never thought I would. I'm tellin' you stuff I've never told anyone before." Fritz held her even tighter and sighed, kissing her forehead.

"Brenda, that makes me feel so honored, it really does," he said, emotion in his voice. He pulled her away from him and looked into her eyes. "You know that you can tell me anything and it won't change with way I feel about you, okay? I mean that. I'm just having some violent urges toward Hart right now, which I think is a manly testosterone reaction, but I think I can control it." He stroked her cheek.

She disengaged from him and headed to the kitchen and opened another bottle of wine. "One more glass and that's it, I promise," she said to Fritz over her shoulder. He nodded assent.

"Only if you promise to sit next to me on the couch when you come back to the living room, okay?" Brenda nodded.

Full glass in hand she sat on the far end of the couch so could rest her back against the arm and face Fritz. She took a large gulp of Merlot before she sat it down on the coffee table.

"Where was I. Oh yea, recently divorced. The IA inquiry lasted two months, and then I was cleared of all charges and allowed to go back to work. John had been transferred to another division, which I guess was for the best. But there were a lot of rumors flyin' around, and people looked at me funny. Several of the men in the precinct asked me out, knowin' I was divorced and guessin' that I must be pretty easy. I made it very clear to anyone who approached me that I have no interest in dating a fellow cop, so they better back off. It was really awful, basically non-stop sexual harassment for the first several months I was back. And then people kinda forgot, but I never got the respect from my peers that I had before. My squad was great and gave me a lot of support. Oh, to have that now," she sighed.

"So anyways, about a year after all this mess, I was out at a bar with a friend of mine, just shootin' the breeze, not lookin' for anything. Patty was married, and I had sworn myself to celibacy. The waiter came over and brought me a glass of Merlot I didn't order, and said it was from the gentleman at the bar. I mean, how trite can you get. I looked over him and smiled, accepted the wine because, well, wine is a horrible thing to waste. The guy was good lookin,' but I wasn't interested. I was there to spend time with my girlfriend. A few minutes later the guy came over to me and introduced himself. His name was Peter Kelly*. He said that he didn't mean to interrupt our conversation, but he thought I looked like a very intererestin' woman, and he would love to take me out to dinner some time. He smiled and left me his business card, with his phone number on the back. He said it was up to me to give him a call, but he would really love to hear from me. Then he smiled and left.

"Well, Patty was so excited you woulda thought the guy left his card for her and not me. She then went into this long spiel about how it was time I got back to datin,' that I'm wastin' the best years of my life workin' all the time, and it can't hurt to call the guy and at least talk to him. The only way I got out of that bar and away from Patty was to promise her I'd call him the next day."

"Did you?" Fritz asked. "And if you did, how many glasses of Merlot did you drink to work up the courage?"

"Of course I called him, Fritz, or this would be a very short story. And I think I had only two glasses of wine, but I can't honestly remember. And stop makin' fun of me for havin' a drink or two to get through a tense conversation. I'm not good at talkin' to people if it's not work-related, if you haven't noticed." She frowned at him.

"I'm sorry Brenda, I didn't mean to sound judgmental. Go on."

She sighed. "So yea, I called the guy the next evenin' on his cell, and we talked for awhile. He seemed nice enough, and I could see from his business card that he worked for one of the major law firms in Atlanta, so he probably wasn't a psycho. I agreed to have dinner with him the following night. And one dinner led to another, and to another." Brenda reached down and took another swig from her glass.

"Peter was nice, very suave. He was genuinely interested in what I did, and was impressed that I was the head of Homicide. I mean, Hart always acted like he was a little embarrassed that his wife had a more important job, and made more money, then him. But Peter thought it was great I was high up in the Atlanta PD. He was a few years older than me, never married. He was funny and smart, and I had a fun time with him. He seemed to have been raised to respect women. Or at least I thought so at the time.

"Long story short, we dated for about six months. He understood the nature of my job and the long hours, because he worked long hours too. He never got upset if I had to cancel a date because of a homicide, he would just wish me luck and said he would catch me later. Everything was nice and loose, no commitment. And I have to admit, it was good to have a boyfriend around, someone to spend time with, and, well, you know." Brenda blushed. "I wasn't in love with him, and it felt like the perfect post-divorce relationship." She frowned. "The only thing I disliked was when I had to go with him to firm functions. He was really into showin' me off. He would buy me some incredibly expensive dress to wear, which I thought was silly because I had enough clothes, but he would beg me to wear what he got me. So I did, although they were usually more revealing than I normally wore. And then he would tell me if he liked my hair and my makeup, and if he didn't, he would ask me to change it for him. It was kinda annoying, really, but it wasn't that often, and just for firm functions. Every other time he saw me he told me I was beautiful, no matter what I was wearin'."

"Ooh, I will have to take you somewhere fancy so I can see you in of those revealing dresses," Fritz said, a twinkle in his eye.

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Men" she said. "You're all alike."

"No we're not," Fritz whispered. "Please know that. Not all of us are jerks." He looked at her.

"I know that Fritz, or at least I'm tryin' to believe it, but right now I'm tellin' you about the ones that are. And I don't have those dresses any more. I'll tell you what happened to them later."

She paused again to collect her thoughts. I am strong enough to do this, she told herself. I told him about Hart and I can tell him about Peter. She looked at Fritz, who reached over and grabbed her and squeezed it and let go. She pulled her hand away and rolled herself up in a ball as tightly as she could, and continued.

"So, what do you know, Will Pope called me out of the blue. I hadn't seen him in five years, and you could have knocked me over with a feather. He said he was comin' to Atlanta for a conference, and he would like to meet me for drinks. He was divorced from Anne and married to Estelle, and they just had their first kid. I really do think he told me this on the phone because he was afraid I'd see him and try to seduce him. What an ego he had. Well, I agreed to meet, because I thought that it might help me to exorcise some of my demons, or at least one big demon, so I agreed to meet him.

"Peter called me up and asked me out to dinner for the followin' night, which was when I had agreed to see Will. Not thinkin' anything of it, or that he would care, I told him I was havin' drinks with an old boyfriend from DC. I guess I shouldn't have referred to Will as my boyfriend, but again, Peter wasn't the jealous type, or at least I thought he wasn't.

"Well, Peter went nuts. It was the weirdest thing, completely Jekyll and Hyde. He asked all about Will, how long our relationship was, what exactly I was doin' with him tomorrow night. I assured him we were just meetin' for drinks at a hotel downtown, and all of a sudden I got real angry. It felt like a flashback, like I was assurin' Hart I wasn't havin' an affair all over again. I said a few choice words to him and then hung up the phone. To me, his temper tantrum meant I was gonna break up with him, because I didn't need complications like that in my life. I didn't have the strength to deal with male jealousy any more.

"Peter called me like a billon times that next day, but I ignored him. After I got the stressful meetin' with Pope out of the way, I would tell Peter it was over. But one thing at a time."

"What was it like seeing Pope again, five years after he ended it?" Fritz asked.

"I was pretty anxious about it. I didn't know if I would be angry or burst into tears or what. And before you ask, I had three glasses of Merlot before I met him to calm my nerves." She smiled sarcastically at Fritz. "But it actually wasn't that bad. I saw him and I had no feelin's whatsoever, just a wave of anger, but not enough to go over and punch him or anythin'. It was awkward at first, especially when he asked about my husband. He had heard about me gettin' married, but not divorced, so that was uncomfortable. But I told him about the whole ethics inquiry, and he was real sympathetic. Then he started showin' me pictures of his new baby girl, and I was amazed to see Will as mushy as that. I was thinkin' that maybe fatherhood will make him a little less of an ass. We both relaxed and talked about interestin' cases we have been workin' on, both of us makin' sure we didn't mention our relationship. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see Peter walkin' toward us. I couldn't believe it. When we were fightin' on the phone the day before, I must have told him the name of the hotel I was meetin' Pope at. So, Peter comes to the table and very politely introduces himself to Will as my boyfriend. Will, the jerk, said, 'oh, Brenda didn't tell me she had a boyfriend!" I wanted to stab him for sayin' that, because Peter gave me the look of death. Peter then went on to say that he was pickin' me up because we had dinner plans, and he was terribly sorry for interruptin' our conversation.

"So I had a choice. I could either tell Peter to go to hell, and risk creatin' a scene, especially since Peter appeared to have gone over the deep end or somethin'. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of Will, dumb as that sounds. I had told him about Hart and the ethics inquiry; I didn't want him to know I now had a crazy boyfriend too. So I stood up and smiled, shook Will's hand, and apologized for havin' to leave so suddenly, and took Peter's outstretched arm. As soon as we were out of earshot, I planned to chew him a new one and tell him I never wanted to see him again."

Brenda reached down and drained her glass of Merlot. She really wished she had ignored Fritz and brought the entire bottle out with her. She shuttered slightly, and Fritz again took her hand. She pulled back, knowing she couldn't look at Fritz until she finished the story. Keeping control was going to be hard enough without seeing the look on Fritz's face.

"Well, I never quite got the chance. His car was parked right outside, and he literally threw me in the passenger's side. When I tried to get out, tellin' him my own car was there and I didn't want to go with him anyways, he just slammed the door on me, and I barely got my feet out of the way. Then he gets into the car and I can tell he's been drinkin'. He yelled at me to shut up, and he started drivin' away real fast. At this point I'm furious, and I'm tellin' him it's over and to let me out of the car right now. I told him he was crazy, and then he started yellin' at me, tellin' me I had no respect for him, that he didn't ask much of me at all, and for me to go an hook up with an old boyfriend was unforgivable. He went on to say he was sure that if he didn't come and get me I would end up sleepin' with Will, and that was so unfair to him he had to stop it. So I started yellin' back that if I wanted to sleep with Will it was my choice, it was done between us anyways, and boy, did that get him goin'. It was like I was in some parallel universe, with this guy who is Peter's evil twin. I mean, the guy never raised his voice to me, or acted crazy at all. And all of a sudden he's forcin' me into his car and drivin' 80 miles an hour to God knows where. I was really scared, because I didn't know who this guy was. And I didn't bring my gun with me, like an idiot. So I just closed my eyes and stopped listenin' to his screamin', and just prayed that everything was gonna work out OK. Cuz the way he was behavin' I wasn't sure, and I certainly worked enough murders of women killed by their partners to know that I could be one of them.

"After what felt like ages, he started to slow the car. I opened my eyes and we were in the middle of nowhere. We weren't in Atlanta anymore, but way out in the country surrounded by tobacco fields. I had no idea why he had taken me there, and got even more scared that he was gonna kill me." Brenda took a deep breath to try and slow her pulse, which was rising dangerously high as she told this story.

"He stopped the car, still screamin' at me, sayin' I wanted to get out of the car, so get out. Peter went around to the passenger's side and yanked me out. I had a split second to do some damage to him, so I kneed him in the groin. He doubled over and I started runnin, but there was no place to run to, and I was wearin' heals. He caught up with me in a couple of minutes and turned me around to look at him. He actually looked…sad. He said to me, no longer yellin' but in his normal voice, 'I gave you everything you wanted. I thought you were the one. And this is how you treat me. You have broken my heart' or some drivel like that. I retorted that he's given me nothin', and I hated him and never wanted to see him again. And then…" Brenda's throat constricted and she could barely force the words out. "I didn't see it comin'. All my CIA trainin' and I didn't see it comin'. He punched me across the face full force. The blow was so hard it knocked me to the ground, and I was stunned. He dragged me off the ground and then slapped me with the back of his hand a few times before lettin' me fall to the ground again. He stood there starin' at me, barely conscious, blood everywhere, and I thought there was more to come. But he just said to me, in his calm voice, he was sorry he had to punish me like this, but it was my own fault. And he turned around and walked back to the car and drove away, like nothing had happened." Brenda felt sick to her stomach, and she still didn't look at Fritz.

"So there I am, beat up and dizzy, and I had no idea where I was. Once I threw up a couple times, I slowly stood up and realized I could walk, not in a straight line or anythin', but I could walk. And I started to be able to think again, the shock of everything that happened wore off just a bit. I knew I had to get home and maybe get medical attention, because my nose felt like it might be broken. So I found my cell phone and thought about who I should call for help. I had girlfriends, but they were married and had families, and probably didn't have the time to drive around Georgia lookin' for me. So I decided, as much as I didn't want to, to call Daddy. He has an amazin' sense of direction, and knows the state of Georgia like the back of his hand. I go to call him, and guess what, no signal on my cell. I started to cry, feelin' so helpless and lost, until I decided wallowin' wasn't gonna help me get home. So I put my investigator's hat on to figure out what to do. As deserted as this place was, I figured there had to be a farmhouse around somewhere, so I started walkin'. I was wearin' heals, which weren't helpin', so I took them off and started to walk barefoot along the side of the gravel road. I walked for about an hour and a half before I spotted a farmhouse. The lights were out, but I was hopin' someone was home. I went up and knocked on the door, findin' my badge in my purse. It was pretty late by now, after 11pm, so I thought people might be asleep. And they were. After my third round of knockin,' an angry man came to the door, hollerin' about being woke up. He took one look at me and shut up. I showed him my badge and told him I was stranded and didn't know where I was, could he please let me borrow his phone? The guy yelled for his wife and she came down and gasped when she saw me. I didn't get through my speech about why I was there before she pulled me through the door and into the kitchen. She cleaned off my face and gave me ice to put over my bruises. She noticed my feet were all torn up from walking barefoot on gravel, and she washed them and bandaged them too. I can't tell you how kind she was. I asked to use her phone to call my daddy to come get me, and if one of them could get on the phone to give him directions, I would appreciate it.

So I called home, and Daddy answered the phone, mad for me wakin' up him and Momma. I said as straightforward as I could that Peter and I had a big fight, and he had stranded me somewhere outside of Atlanta, and could he please come and get me? He asked why I wasn't callin' someone in my squad for help. I had to tell him Peter beat me up, and I didn't want anyone in my squad to see me like this. I started cryin,' my Daddy started swearin', and the two strangers looked at me, horrified. It was just awful. So I put the husband on the phone to give Daddy directions, and then started to cry even harder. The woman—I can't remember her name—brought me water and aspirin, and asked if I would like to lie down on the couch while I waited for my father. She made me a bed on the sofa, and I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew someone was knockin' on the door, and it was Daddy. I tell ya, I have never been more relieved to see someone in my life. He took one look at me and swore, but held it together enough to thank the people who took me in. I always regretted not getting their names and sendin' a thank you card to them. They really were my lifesavers that night.

"So Daddy asked me what happened, and I told him. I could see how mad he was, but he was holdin' back his rantin' and ravin' because it was clear I was too upset to hear it. He drove me straight to the ER, and it turned out my nose was broken. By the time we got outta there is was like 5am, and Daddy took me home. Momma was up, took one look at me, and started cryin'. I was so worn out by then that I couldn't even cry. Since I was worried Peter might try to come to my house, I stayed with my parents for a couple of weeks. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? In my thirties and still runnin' to my parents to take care of me." Brenda finally ventured a look at Fritz. She was afraid she was going to see pity in his eyes, but instead he looked almost nauseous, pale and sweaty.

"And thing is, I was so angry at myself. Still am. I'm trained to read people, and yet I didn't see Peter for what he was, a batterer. I mean, how could I have missed the signs? How could I possibly have been so blind? The whole dressin' me up thing, dictatin' what I wore and how I looked, that was real controllin' behavior, but for some reason I just shrugged it off." She felt her eyes tearing up, this time, she didn't bother to try and stop her them. Tears rolled down her cheeks while she tried to pull her mind away from that dark night. She would never forget the fear and the shock and the blood, and the cut of gravel into her bare feet as she walked that deserted road, looking up at the crystal stars and feeling more alone than she ever had. Fritz get up from the couch, and he returned quickly with two things she needed: a Kleenex and the Merlot bottle. He poured her another glass and handed it to her.

"You probably need this," he said softly.

Brenda looked at the full glass: it was tempting, and maybe another glass would numb some of the pain she was in, but she wanted to be stronger than that. She had to be able to tell Fritz this terrible story and not have to drink three bottles of Merlot to do it. She shook her head and Fritz sat it on the coffee table.

"Brenda, none of what happened was your fault, none of it. We both know batterers are often very charming men, which is what it sounds like Peter was. Until he got jealous and felt out of control, and then his abusive side came out. I know you have heard women who have been beaten by men blame themselves, don't do the same. You did nothing to deserve it. I'm sure you weren't the first woman he hit."

She wiped her nose and shook her head. "No, I ran him through the system after that. Peter had been arrested about five years before for beating up a girlfriend. She went in the next day and pleaded his case, and the charges were dropped."

"So, I'm sure you turned him in and things weren't so easy this time, huh?"

Brenda shifted uncomfortably. "Well no, not exactly. I didn't file charges against him." She couldn't meet Fritz's eyes.

"What?" He sounded shocked and a little angry, like she knew he would. "Why, Brenda, did you let this guy get away with hurting you?"

She held up her hand. "I didn't say he got away with it. But I didn't file charges, no. You have to understand, Fritz, what the Atlanta PD was like. I told you that I was harassed pretty badly after my ethics inquiry, and never had the same level of respect from my peers again. Well, I am sure someone would delight in findin' a police report showin' Captain Johnson's boyfriend beat her up. A cop who can't defend herself. I can guarantee you that would make the rounds for sure. And I just didn't have the energy to deal with any more grief from work, and this was way too personal to have people jokin' about it, like I knew they would."

"Brenda, that's horrible. It sounds like you worked with the biggest bunch of assholes."

She nodded. "Welcome to the world of bein' a female police officer."

He was quiet for a second. "You said he didn't get away with it, though. What do you mean?"

"Well, when I went back to work a couple of days later, I had to tell some story, so I said I was playin' baseball with my brothers and got a line drive to my face. The bandage to my broken nose covered a lot of the bruisin', and I spent a small fortune on cover up makeup, so my squad seemed to buy it, and were teasin' me all day 'bout stayin' away from the Major Leagues.

"There was a female officer in my squad, Detective Dodd, whom I liked very much. She was real down to earth, several years older than me, and we got on well. She came into my office and shut the door. She told me her ex-husband used to beat her, and she knows a battered face and a shaky story when she saw one. Without even pausin' to let me lie again, she asked me what happened, and I went ahead and gave her the abbreviated version. She understood why I didn't press charges, though it made her angry that Peter was gonna get away with this. She had an idea for a little bit of payback, and I agreed to it. She called her partner, Detective Romano, into the room and quickly told him what happened. Detective Romano owed me one, so I knew I could trust both of them not to tell anyone about what really happened to my face."

"Detective Romano owed you one? Did you push him out of the way of a bullet or something?" asked Fritz.

Brenda smiled. "In a manner of speakin.' One night I just happened to be downtown near this gay bar, and I saw Romano outside kissin' his boyfriend. He wasn't 'out,' and sure didn't want anyone at the PD to find out about him bein' gay. He was very grateful as his boss that I couldn't have cared less, and I would never tell anyone. So yea, he owed me one.

"So, Detectives Dodd and Romano went down to Peter's big law firm and walked right in, demandin' to know where he was. Their timin' was perfect, because he was in a conference room full of clients and a few partners. They announced very loudly that they needed to talk to Mr. Kelly about the felony he had committed the other night. Well, he got outta that room real fast and into his office. Romano and Dodd got into his face and made it sound like I had filed charges, and was only willin' to consider droppin' them if he promised never to come near me again. And if he did, they would be back, this time to arrest him for felony assault and kidnappin'. They told him that an attack on a fellow officer makes cops pretty testy, and he wasn't gonna enjoy the strip search in jail after he got booked, and judges don't look to favorably on someone who hurts one of their own. And they made it clear that if they ever hear that he as so much as gave a dirty look to another woman, that they would be right back to haul him into jail. He was shakin' by the time they were done, agreein' to anything so he wouldn't get cuffed and hauled away in front of his colleagues. And as the icin' on the cake, on their way out the door Detective Romano turned around and said, in this boomin' voice so everyone heard it, that Mr. Kelly was a batterer, and all the women in the firm should stay far away from him. I know one of the partners was a woman, so I imagine that didn't go over too big."

"That's great, Brenda. It's good you had people that stood up for you. But did he listen? Did he ever come near you again?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Peter cared a lot about his career, and he knew he could get disbarred for a felony if the charges didn't get pleaded down, so I never saw him again. He sent me a box with some personal belongin's I left at his house, with no note or anything."

An evil glint in her eye, she said, "oh, I sent him a package too. I took all those $500 dresses he bought me and cut them up into little shreds. It kinda pained me to do that, because they were nice and more expensive than anything I could afford, but there was no way I was ever gonna wear them again. So I sent him a box of chopped up dresses, no note." She allowed herself to feel smug for a minute. In cutting up those dresses, she took out some of her humiliation and fury toward Peter. Destroying tangible objects of his subtle attempt to control her made her feel strong again, if only for a few minutes. She kept a couple pieces of fabric, a red satin brocade and a forest green velvet, in her drawer, to remind her of what it felt like to have a man take away her dignity like that, and how she was tough enough to get away. Whenever she had a dark night where sleep was impossible because she was surrounded by the ghosts that haunted her, she would take those bits of fabric out and hold them in her hand, as if they were a talisman to ward away horrible memories. I am strong, I am strong, she would chant to herself like a mantra. If only her fears were as easily destroyed as those expensive gowns.

Fritz asked quietly, "was that enough justice for you?"

"It had to be," she said. "I couldn't get much more, not without gettin' hurt all over again. And a few months later, Will called about the new position in Priority Homicide, and Atlanta was startin' to collect too many bad memories, so I moved here. And the rest is history."

Fritz didn't respond. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts. Finally Fritz slipped down on his knees in front of Brenda, and took both of her hands in his.

"Brenda, I just have to tell you there's nothing in the world that would ever make me hurt you like those other men." Brenda could tell he was getting choked up. He squeezed her hands tighter. "You are too precious to me to ever hurt. I promise you that, with my whole heart." Brenda looked into his dark eyes, sparkling with unshed tears.

"Oh Fritz," she said, with the weariness of someone who has suffered too much too soon, "don't you understand? Every man in my life has told me that exact same thing. And see what happened."

Fritz looked pained, and Brenda had a hard time looking at him. But he was so earnest that she couldn't turn away. "Brenda Leigh Johnson," he said, his voice wavering, "I fell for you ten years ago in DC. If I have to wait another ten years to earn your trust, I'll do it. It would be a small price to pay for being allowed in your heart."

She had to look away, the intensity was blinding, and the raw emotion behind his words was too much. She suddenly felt completely exhausted. "Fritz, I'm goin' to bed, I'm beat." She let go of his hands, stood up, and started walking towards the bathroom. She noticed he wasn't following, perhaps unsure he was invited to spend the night. She turned back and looked at him, still crouched on the floor. "You comin?"

Brenda brushed her teeth, put on a long tee-shirt, and collapsed into bed. She set the alarm, and a couple of minutes later, she was joined by Fritz, clad only in only his boxers, as usual. She turned out the light and lay down on her back. She heard Fritz sigh, low and quiet, and felt the tenseness in his body. She rolled over on her side and propped herself up on her elbow, bringing her face very close to his. Even in the darkness, she could see his beautiful dark eyes. She reached out and stroked his cheek, and he looked grateful for her touch.

"Thank you for listenin' to all of that," Brenda whispered. It's hard to talk about, so I'm sure it's hard to hear."

Fritz reached up a took a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. "I'm sorry if I pushed to much, Brenda, I really am. I had no idea."

"It's okay Fritzy," she said, and it was. As exhausted and emotionally raw as she was, part of her felt a little lighter. Painful secrets are cruel masters, and perhaps telling someone about them takes some of their power away, she thought.

She reached down to give him the lightest of kisses on his lips. "Goodnight, Fritz. Sweet dreams." After she kissed him she looked into his eyes, and something compelled her to kiss him again, this time slower. She felt her body respond, and was amazed that she could have any sexual feelings as chafed as she felt. She could tell by the way that Fritz kissed her back that he wanted her, but he made no move to touch her. She deepened the kiss, and Fritz moaned. And suddenly she wanted to make love to him desperately. She needed to connect with him, knowing that it would be salve to her bruised heart. She moved on top of him and at last he responded, burying one hand in her hair and slipping another up her tee-shirt to caress her back. And Brenda thought, before passion took away her ability to do so, that at least tonight, the ghosts will be kept at bay.

**The End**

A/N: I would love feedback! Just hit that little old button and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


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